


It

by paragraph (ebcdic)



Category: Canadian Music RPF
Genre: Birthday Presents, Creepy, Drunk Sex, Fetish, M/M, POV First Person, Theft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 04:40:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12646302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebcdic/pseuds/paragraph
Summary: Jeremy has a little fetish.





	It

It had started out so simple, so innocently. He had left one of his guitar picks on the table in the lounge and I picked it up kind of absently. It was a medium one and I wondered if he always used this size. When I thought about his hands on the guitar, it seemed logical. The larger pick would've been too awkward in his hands and a thin one would've taken too much effort to produce the same sound. I flipped it over my knuckles a couple of times before I snatched it out of the air and slipped it in my pocket. 

It lay there, forgotten, until laundry day. Kevin had made a habit of going through our pockets before taking our clothes to the laundry mat after Duncan's wallet had gotten washed as well once. Anything that he found, he left in little plastic bags on our pillows. That day, my bag contained an American nickel, a piece of legal paper with a phone number scrawled in lipstick across it, and his guitar pick. I slipped the pick into the small box that I kept my jewelry in. The rest of the bag got thrown in the garbage. 

It was an odd little thrill to keep something that belonged to him, even if he didn't miss it. But after awhile, the thrill faded. I needed something more. Something he'd wonder about. I waited until laundry day and stole his favorite shirt out of the bag. It was navy blue and had "Girls Football" across the chest in gold letters. He had actually stolen it from his girlfriend, and for a second, I felt bad about taking it. But only for a second. 

It lay underneath the fitted sheet of my bunk, spread out so that when I laid down, I could feel the outline of it beneath me. If I pressed my face to the sheet, I could smell his scent mixed in with mine. He yelled at Kevin for two hours straight when the laundry came back and his shirt wasn't with it. When he ran out of creative ways to bitch Kevin out, he crawled into his bunk below mine. I could hear him on his cell phone, talking to his girlfriend, and it was obvious that he was upset. Maybe I should've felt guilty then, but I didn't.

It was still such a thrill to have his shirt, long after he had stopped being upset over it. But I wanted more. Within a month, I had his entire favorite outfit under the fitted sheet with me. The shirt, the overalls, the ugly striped sweater, even a pair of his socks; they laid underneath the sheet as though on display. Only if I had my way, no one would ever see them. When he came to me to bitch about Kevin always losing his laundry, it was hard not to give him a knowing smile. 

It came to be my birthday. He got drunk and hit on me. I led him back to the bunks as we kissed. He tried to push me into his bunk, but I insisted that we climb into mine. His body above mine, his stolen clothes beneath me. My mind was more focused on the latter than the former as he drove my body into the bed with his thrusts. I wrapped my fingers around a lock of his hair as he bit down on my shoulder. He never noticed when I ripped a few strands out. I kept them in the box with the guitar pick. 

It was the end of the tour and time to clean off the bus. I stole a laundry bag from Kevin and shoved all my stolen possessions inside it. When I came home, I shoved them in a closet and forgot about them. There was no time for secret thrills and obsessions with a year of touring ahead of us, and I had already gotten what I wanted from him.

It was years later, close to his birthday, when I found the bag again. I laughed as I went through the contents. In the end, I wrapped them up as a birthday gift and brought the box over to his house. I was fine until he started to open it, then I started to get a little nervous. When he saw what was inside, he turned to me and laughed. "I knew it was you all along." Before I could respond, he held up one hand and then disappeared from the room for a second. When he came back, he was holding a box about the size of the one I had given him. He handed it to me and I opened it carefully. Inside was every scrap of paper I had ever thrown away, including the piece of legal paper with the number in lipstick scrawled across it. I looked up at him and finally gave him my knowing smile.


End file.
